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headaches

It’s been a pretty gloomy few days in Dalmatia.
Do you feel like weather has an impact on your feelings?
Locals always distinguish between the two winds that wreak havoc on the region: one is Jugo (warm, humid, Southern wind) and one is Bura (cold, dry Northern wind).

While Bura is usually welcomed by locals as the “clearing” wind (when she doesn’t get too out of control), Jugo is blamed for all kinds of things: grumpiness, aching bones & joints, laziness, mood swings, depression, headaches, etc.

If you’re already grimacing at the thought of such meteosensitivity, imagine this: in the good old days, when Dubrovnik was its own republic, crimes committed during Jugo would get a lessened sentence.

Because of course you’ve committed a crime that day ~ it was windy & cloudy!

For the longest time, when Ante would blame the weather for his mood or productivity level, I’d just roll my eyes and make fun of him. Living in Canada for 11 years, I’ve gotten used to 6-7 months of snow each year: if we tried to use the -40C, glass-breathing, eyeball-shattering weather as an excuse for procrastinating our responsibilities, we’d get absolutely nowhere.

But now that I live in Croatia, I find myself more and more susceptible to the malicious effects of Jugo. And I wonder, is that some sort of a placebo effect? Did I let the local mentality seep through my pores and pacify my mind on cloudy days? As a person that constantly needs reminders to slow down and rest, perhaps my body & mind are particularly eager to find an external reason for a day of self-care.

Simply hearing a song can drastically alter our mental and emotional states ~ why couldn’t we be drastically affected by the changes in our whole environment?

We’re intimately woven into our environments with all our senses ~ our bodies are physical barometers for an insanely wide spectrum of variables: we can perceive subtle shifts in our partners’ tone & posture, a simple smell can bring back years of forgotten memories, and we seem to have an uncanny sense for someone looking at us from across the room.

There’s endless evidence of the human organism’s capacity for perceiving the subtle.

While the Canadian in me remains skeptical, there’s a part of me that’s starting to soften around the subject. To my surprise, that comes with a certain willingness to swallow my pride. As if I have to admit that I, as a tiny human organism, cannot control the effects of this massive world and its billions of constantly changing variables on me.

Why does it feel so humbling to admit that I’m not a one-woman spaceship?

I feel like my boundaries are crumbling and my heart feels a bit lighter as I allow myself to be woven back into the world & surrender to that chaotic, yet expansive interdependency.